Graceful Sensation
by Inu-midoriko
Summary: She hadn't realized until it was too late that he was seeing everything. Her reactions, her expressions and tone. He was gauging everything from her, up to and including the steps she took closer to him. Quar'N'Tine!


A/N: This just had to happen. It was taunting and snarking at me and… yes. I can not decide who I want this to go out to more… so this goes out to all my BAMFettes :D Loves you, ladies.

Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments as they passed one another. Heated hazel meeting cool blue. She was new, that much he could see. From her attitude as she stormed from Parker's office, to the way she scoffed at him- dismissing him as if he were no more than a pesky bug crossing her path. A brow raised at her retreating back, her lab coat billowing behind her as her hips did all the talking for her.

Move or get shoved. There was no room for polite 'excuse me's'. Like many of the other lab women, he dismissed her as no more than a science nerd. A woman in need of a tongue-lashing if her expression was anything to go by.

"Colonel." the man Miles Quaritch came to see, rounded his desk. "Glad you could make it. How's the injury?" he asked, indicating the angry red gashes marring the side of his head. He'd gotten to Pandora not six days ago and already he'd been almost killed. The man shrugged, all too cool, all too collected.

"I'm alive." Parker grinned and clapped him on the back.

"That's what I like to hear, Colonel. That's what I like to hear."

"Who was the spitfire that just nearly took out half your team up here?" He didn't really care who she was. Not really. But a woman that had the gall to silently tell everyone around her to fuck off was a name worth knowing whether he admitted it or not.

"Oh, her." Parker's face scrunched. "That would be a woman in desperate need of a good lay." he laughed at his own joke. An awful one, but out of polite neutrality, Miles grinned. After a moment, the younger man ran a hand over his forehead. "That…_woman _would be the one and only Grace Augustine. She's a Xenobotanist here. Head of the Avatar program she's 'worked so hard to get running'. Her first day and she's already a pain in my ass."

Miles hummed, he could tell. Parker was agitated. A small crease formed on his brow, an observation the Colonel picked up on his first few days here. The man's brow didn't crease unless provoked, or stressed. Clearly this 'Grace Augustine' woman stressed him. If his loyalties weren't so great to the RDA, he'd have been more amused. More in favour of the woman keeping this man on his toes. "I'm sure she'll come around. They usually do."

"Mm. We'll see. But enough about her. She's not important." Parker opened the door to his office and motioned for Miles to step out first. "Walk with, Colonel. There's something we need to discuss."

If there was one thing Grace Augustine had to pick out that drew her attention, momentarily of course, to the brute of a man she nearly bumped into the previous day, she would be at a loss. The man was force in himself, radiating male pride, military authority. Intense control over himself, his men and the people that associated with him. There wasn't one specific quality of the man that didn't demand attention.

Despite Miles Quaritch's powerful stature, Grace determined he was another impressively muscled dunderhead that got his kicks out of holding a gun and shooting anything remotely offensive in his path. Watching the man strut about the field, barking orders at his men and women, she also came to the decision, a judgement based on her observations of him during her smoke breaks, that he was a cocky asshole. Impressive, but cocky.

The scientist had yet to have a conversation with this man and already she could tell they wouldn't get along. He was headstrong, built and made to lead with no questions asked. She was as stubborn as an ox, built to defend her cause, made to question authority. Grace didn't seek out men; wouldn't dream of allowing herself to adapt a specific routine to match that of a man that intrigued her. She was Grace Goddamn Augustine. She bent for no one. With a scowl, the woman crushed her cigarette and all but ripped the door open to storm back into her lab. Further thoughts must be purged.

Had she looked back over her shoulder, she would have seen smouldering blue eyes following her retreating form.

Miles Quaritch was fairly certain Grace Augustine was the devil personified. It was decided by his first interaction with the woman three months after her arrival. He was assigned to take a certain number of troops with him to watch over and protect a team of scientists going out to explore and gather samples for research purposes. He was perfectly content with the idea. Blow half the day to watch over a bunch of lab rats. It wasn't too hard, in fact it as easy enough to call half a day's vacation.

That is, until Grace Augustine found out about it. It perplexed him, how mad she was. He merely leaned back against the leg of his AMP machine and narrowed his eye on her. "It's for you and your team's protection." he stated, carrying on as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. It was dangerous out there, he had the scars to prove it, and if this woman thought she was going to plummet head first into it for samples of dirt then she had another thing coming.

"You're not even listening. The area we're going has little to no threats from the wildlife. We'll be fine without you. If anything, it'll be you and your lapdogs to attract attention and get us killed." The fire in her eyes was intriguing. Amusing in ways he couldn't place. Alluring in more he hadn't a care to comprehend just yet. She was but another woman. He'd figure her out and get bored; it was the way of things. His way.

"You have no say in this matter. Be ready to head out in thirty." Miles uncrossed his arms, stepped away from his AMP and took a slow step forward into Grace's personal space. He expected her to take a step back, expected her expression to cave… None of those things happened. Grace stayed in her spot, unflinching as he stared into her glare and felt her burn through the look alone. Their chests grazed as he passed her form. She didn't tense, didn't shiver. If anything her glare hardened, the fire intensified. Suddenly Grace Augustine's puzzle became slightly more complex.

True to his word and much to Grace's blatant dismay, Miles Quaritch and his unit met the scientists at the gate. Each of them intent on following their Colonel's orders. The Colonel, himself, intent on doing the job Parker put him in charge of. Protect the scientists and make sure they come back with something useful. Whether Ms. Augustine liked it or not, his unit was going with them. They were going to scout the area, and they were going to shoot anything remotely dangerous.

They didn't travel far and like Grace had said, there seemed to be no danger. Nothing out of the ordinary that made his skin prickle and his senses run on overdrive. It was calming almost. Relaxing to just walk a line and scan the scenery. Every now and then he'd catch some of the scientist's conversations, most of it about their findings, other times about his unit. It wouldn't have bothered him, not really. He knew he could an ass, he knew his personality was overbearing at best. But he couldn't deny there was something simultaneously irking and intriguing about a woman openly loathing him. Openly defying his orders by sending a glare his way and bending down to touch an animal he knew nothing about, leaning over an opening plant to reach in and scoop out a sample after he told her to step away.

Grace was making his job hell. It became less about watching over the others, they wouldn't dare defy him, not with his cold, steely blue eyes and sharp tongue; and became more about personally watching over Augustine. No other soldier would talk to her the way he did, no other would approach her the way he did. With confidence, dominance over the situation. He glared at her retreating back after he'd _just _told her not to walk in that direction. It was further into the jungle, away from the perimeters he set for them. She rounded a corner, her tiny form looking fragile and small. Miles snorted. That woman was anything but fragile.

Turning to his group, Miles indicated the closest soldier to keep watch before setting out to follow the woman sent to him from hell. She hadn't strayed far, but it was a defiance that got under his skin and prickled. She was examining a flower, pretty and pink and decidedly squashed by his AMP foot. She jumped, narrowly missing the stomp.

"Augustine, back to the group. Now."

Behind her air mask, her voice was muffled but he still caught the distain in her voice. "You have no place interfering with the things I examine for research purposes."

"Find yourself another pretty flower to stare at, back at the group." he jerked his head the direction they came in. She stared up at him, challenging his authority over her for a mere moment before she turned on her heel and made back for the group. He followed her- all the while shooting his gaze into the back of her pretty head. There was no reason for her obvious disrespect of him. He'd done nothing to her but ignore her wishes to stay back inside Hell's Gate. If this woman thought she was going to get away with this Scot free, she had another thing coming.

Miles Quaritch considered himself a man of poise, rationality. He didn't exert unnecessary energy when he didn't need to, he didn't tear through crowds of people to get to a destination or a certain someone when he was livid. And he most certainly did not barge through the science lab in search of women with a knack for kicking the back of his seat.

He had a stream of scientists following him, nervous out of their wits as to who the Colonel was in a furious pursuit of. "Excuse you, sir, you can't just barge in-" one of the lab technicians attempted and was cut off my Miles' abrupt stop, slow turn and deadly glare. The line of people behind him visibly shrunk from the weight of his gaze. It was when he heard Grace's voice, her strong tone with unmistakable feminine undertones, that he turned back to his original path and made a sharp beeline for her.

The firey haired woman was enthralled with her work, entranced with showing a newcomer how to handle one of the many specimens they'd brought back with them. By the time she straightened and registered there was a tension in the air, it was too late. The Colonel came in close, too close, for the second time that day. They were nearly eye level with one another. He just half an inch shorter than her in the flat shoes she was wearing. Even if she chose heels this day, his stature would outweigh hers. He was all muscle, all brute, where she was the opposite. And fittingly so. Aside from her sharp wit and whip for a tongue, her temper was easy enough to deal with.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on him. He thought to make her cower from his close proximity. She internally snorted. Wasn't happening.

Miles' furious expression hardened as he jerked his head toward the door. "We need to talk, Augustine." his voice strained, hard from anger, gruff from containing his rising temper with her. Miles was a strategist. It was in his nature to set a plan and set things in motion; wait patiently for his plans to unfold one after the other like a line of dominos. As far as the Colonel was concerned, he had a great deal of patience to fall on, especially for his occupation. It took him slightly off guard to discover they ran out faster than a snap of the fingers where Grace was concerned. She didn't make it easy for them to get along. In fact, she didn't make it easy for anyone save for her lab rats that showed great promise.

He could see she was turning the tables in her head. Considering her options, weighing them. Either stay and banter in the lab, her domain. Or go out into the hall, neutral ground, and bicker there. He chose for her, gave her a look of challenge before turning around and striding for the door. After a moment she followed, ignoring the way his muscles moved under his tank and focused on the back of his head. He opened the door and stood to the side, waiting for her to cross the threshold. Without hesitation she did and he followed suit before walking a few paces away from the lab doors.

Like a moth to a flame, she followed and crossed her arms over her chest, turning her steely expression on him.

"What the hell was that out there today?" he asked, three paces in front of her. Three paces that suddenly didn't seem close enough. He took a step, his hands coming to rest in front of him. A relaxed pose. One he thought might convey he had control over his annoyance with her. The bunching of his shoulders and biceps, however, did nothing to make her believe such things if her calculating look and raised brow to him was of any indication. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes a moment and pinned her with his stare, waiting for her answer.

"I was doing my job. Research." she chose her answer carefully, knowing fully what he was talking about.

"Your job." he repeated it more for himself, than for her. A slow nod, a mocking grin. "And does your job also include not listening to your superiors?" Grace's eyes widened in outrage a moment. She took a step forward, one pace left between them.

"My _superiors_?" she repeated. "The only thing you and your dogs are superior at is stroking your egos. Go fuck yourself, Colonel." Something snapped within him. He no longer had the impeccable poise he was known for. He no longer had a calm disposition his men and women admired. His eyes, alight with anger, pierced her as he took that last step so his chest was against hers. He turned her so her back was facing the wall. A step forward and she was forced back against it. Before she could move, he rested an arm by her head, placed a hand by her waist. The position allowed for their chests to graze, their faces to come close.

Fury swam in her eyes. Fury and something that flashed so fast he wasn't sure it was there at all. Affronted brown met furious blue. "Watch your tongue, Augustine."

"Or you'll what? Shoot it out of me? It's the only thing you're good at." His muscles flexed, tensed with her baiting. It was most intriguing when her eyes flickered their attention from his eyes for a brief moment. He shifted, offering another angle and just as he suspected, her eyes strayed. He grinned, becoming entirely too amused by his suspicions.

This had Grace's attention and her eyes narrowed on his grin before raking back up to his eyes.

"I don't suppose it would be too much to ask for you to move." she asked, hissed rather. She levelled a stern stare at him. Dared him to take this further. Dared him to do what she could see he wanted to do in his eyes.

He leaned his head down to her ear, inhaled her scent. "Just about as much as it takes for you to cooperate."

"I am cooperating. You just get in my way." To her credit, her voice didn't change, her hands remained at her sides. A hum escaped the back of his throat as his eyes raked her features. She was strikingly beautiful. Almost wretchedly so. For a moment it hindered his thoughts, his plan to get her to crack her façade.

"I think there's something more to your hatred of me." he accused. He couldn't help himself, as she stiffened ever so slightly. The man captured her lobe between his teeth and dragged. She jerked but could go nowhere.

"Get away from me." she hissed, but her tone changed. It was no longer hard but softer. Just an octave softer. Her mouth said one thing and her body said another. It was intriguing. Something he found himself perplexed by. The puzzle that was Grace Augustine because slightly more interesting.

Regardless of knowing she could scream for help at any given moment, he had every faith she wouldn't. Grace was many things, a helpless damsel was not among them. He sensed- somehow knew- that if she truly felt threatened she could deal with the situation fast enough to make a get away back into the lab. "On one condition." she gave him a sharp look and he raised a brow before continuing. "When it comes to my job, you let me do it with no complaints, no defying my orders."

Grace's teeth clenched together, her glare would have made a lesser man wither. "Deal, just get off." to this he raised a brow, searched her eyes. She was bluffing. He could tell by the insincerity of her gaze, the fact she chose to look at the wall behind him rather than his face.

Miles decided on a different tactic. He leaned in closer to her face, his mouth hovering just over hers. "I don't believe you, Augustine." and then he did something he might have thought better of if he wasn't so hell bent on making her cave. He ground his hips against hers and watched her eyes widened, her mouth open to lash him with something witty. He moved sensually, suggestively against her. By all means, she should have decked him in the face, the gut. Screamed for help against his assault. And yet her eyes glazed ever so slightly, her hands raised to his shoulders.

After a moment of getting over the shock, the arousal, Grace found her voice and took pride in the fact it sounded strong despite the spike of arousal that shot through her body. "I can't guarantee no complaining. But if it gets you off of me, fine. I'll follow your orders, _Colonel_." she hissed out his title and gave him a hard shove. He was rendered backwards, creating distance between them. With a stare half amused, half heated, he watched her retreat back into the safety of the lab. A grin graced his features. She thought him a dog but she was wrong. He was a big, bad wolf.

It was late by the time Grace Augustine left the lab three nights after her last encounter with Miles Quaritch. She was always generally the last one to leave and tonight was no different. Each of the scientists she had at her disposal were talented, showed potential in their own ways but she had yet to encounter one that would willingly stay after hours and forfeit sleep to run test after gruelling test, examine specimens until their eyes became so pained with sleep deprivation they forced themselves shut to recuperate enough to strive on.

Grace turned off the lights, double checked to make sure the machines and pods with growing Avatar ran smoothly before making her way to the door. It must have been the haze behind her eyes that disallowed her vision to fully comprehend there was someone reaching for the door on the other side. He beat her to the handle a second before her and pushed the door open. She would have collided with it had she not been somewhat aware of her surroundings and moved to the side just as it opened. Miles Quaritch stood, in all his intimidating glory, in front of her. Levelled her with a hard look, and for a moment she wondered what she did that warranted this particular look from him.

"Colonel." she greeted, her voice sounding just as tired as she felt.

"Augustine." Miles took steps into the lab, gauging her reactions, her facial expression, body language. She looked utterly exhausted. Like she hadn't slept in days. For a moment he took pride in suspecting he had a part in that. "You've been avoiding me." he stated calmly, blocking the exist with his body.

For the first time since he'd known her, she took a small, barely noticeable step back. A man less observant wouldn't have caught it. It was merely a shift in stance but it was all he needed to know he was getting to her. Her façade was dropping. "I've been busy." she retorted, turning her head to the side and exhaling. Her eyes, an impossible shade of brown, openly questioned him on what he wanted.

A step toward her, a slight shift back. It was becoming a game of cat and mouse. She wasn't backing down by any means, she was simply gaining space to strategize, compose herself in her weakened state of mind. This didn't stop him from using this to exploit her weakness for the moment. Another step. A glare and she stayed where she was, catching onto his game. "I've summoned you to see me twice." His arms crossed, bunching in front of him. To her credit she didn't look away from his face.

Grace thought back to the last few days and remembered vaguely being told he'd wanted to see her. Each time she shrugged it off and told the messenger she'd see him later when she was free. Evidently, she kept herself busy. "Like I said, I've been busy. And now I'm leaving to get a few hours of sleep."

"Doesn't make sense to go so long without sleep given your job." He didn't budge from his spot. She could certainly skirt around him and take her leave but he was more unpredictable that she gave him credit for. She didn't want to risk him reaching out to grab her. She didn't want to risk him pinning her to the nearest surface to exploit her reasons in the most sensual way she'd ever been questioned. One would think- hell, she would have thought- that his tactics were an act of offence. Of vulgarity. Yet that was the farthest thing from what she felt toward it. She was of sound mind, was superior in verbal sparring against most any opponent. As far as she was concerned, her verbal skills outweighed that of the man standing in front of her. She could outwit him in seconds and yet all coherent thought left her when he was close. Her body overpowered her mind and her valued sense of logic. Wit and protests left her in favour of half hearted objections and sensations she hadn't permitted herself to indulge in, in far too long.

Grace raised a brow, coming back to the conversation and her current dilemma. "And how would you know that, Colonel?" The accusation was unmistakable.

"Don't flatter yourself, Doc. It's my rotation for the next couple weeks to patrol this hall." she hummed at this and shifted forward. It was his move now and she stared up at him with those ever challenging brown eyes. A shade that he found himself seeing more and more when he closed his eyes. It was distressing, unbecoming. Uncharacteristic of him.

"Your concern is touching." she mocked him, her tone conveying this; her tired eyes straying from his face to the muscles of his biceps, arms and chest said something different.

"It's hardly concern for _you, _Augustine. You're leading a team out again tomorrow. I hardly think you being delirious and sleep deprived is going to help matters, or keep your members safe. I won't be there to watch over your people. Make sure you don't fuck up to the point it costs an unnecessary life." He took a step forward, kept his hands by his sides.

Grace's eyes flared with temper, a silent rage. "How dare you even suggest I'd be stupid enough to allow that to happen." her voice came out in a hiss. Angry, affronted and drawn over the line of frustration, she took one more step, lining herself up with him. Mere inches stood between them. If one were to shift in, their chests would touch and she would feel an unexpected surge of heat pool in her gut. She loathed the colonel and everything he was loyal to yet she wanted him. It was something she could no longer deny to herself. Grace Augustine wanted this infuriating man. However, she'd be damned if she gave in, and she'd be damned if he found out.

At least, this logic made sense to her in her mind. She hadn't realized until it was too late that he was seeing _everything_. Her reactions, her expressions and tone. He was gauging everything from her, up to and including the steps she took closer to him. She looked down at herself when she realized his gaze was no longer on hers. She had one too many buttons open, showing more than her fair share of cleavage. Gooseflesh marred her normally smooth skin. She set a glare on him; this didn't hinder his gaze. Slowly, when he was ready to look up from her exposed skin, his eyes trained back on hers. She should call him a vulgar name, comment on his lack of gentlemen qualities, say _something_. The look in his eyes, however, stopped her. It was subtle, barely there yet she saw it.

Miles stepped once more, physically making her move, making her step with him regardless of her futile resistance. Oddly enough, and she hadn't thought to question herself on it in that moment, but she didn't duck around him and make for the door. She didn't shove him away. Grace allowed him to walk her. She allowed him to pin her to the wall and place his hands on either side of her head. "Now… this looks familiar." his tone was low, coated with unmistakeable desire. It threw her off guard; had her looking at him sharply. "What does it take, Augustine," he leaned his face into hers, just shy of touching her lips. "to make you crumble?"

"I don't crumble, Quaritch." he raised a brow at her use of his last name but said nothing. Instead he ghosted his lips over her cheek, down to her jaw line, back up to her lips. "Colonel." his title, it was all she could get out. He was driving her senses crazy with just feather light touches to her face. It was intimate, not in the traditional sense, yet arousing. His actions set her skin on fire and she mentally cursed him for knowing. If her mind wasn't so intertwined with the lust and exhaustion she felt, she would have been able to see reason and stop him. Perhaps. Right this moment as he had her right where he wanted, she wasn't so sure she would be able to summon anything but her natural wit. Her skin prickled as he got too close to her lips and the heat of his breath lingered on her mouth. It drew the most enticing of sensations from her. The hair rose on her arms and the back of her neck; her nipples tingled in anticipation and slightly, just slightly, she moved into him.

Miles grinned. It was all the tell he needed. Later she would curse him for this. Undoubtedly hate him and loathe herself for allowing him to take it this far. He was many things; a jerk, an ass, insufferable. The list, he knew, went on. But he was not a man that would take full advantage of a woman when she wasn't in her right state of mind. Had she not been so exhausted, he would have taken this further. He would have most certainly taken what she was silently, unknowingly, giving to him. Instead, he took a step back from her with a self satisfied grin. "Get some sleep, Augustine. We'll continue this when you're not about to fall over." Because whether she liked it or not, they most certainly were going to finish this. Miles Quaritch left nothing he started unfinished.

Grace stared at the paper in front of her. She read the same sentence over and over, dumbstruck, livid and yet unable to gather her thoughts to form words. The report was a declaration of a superior solider finding her incapable to leading her expedition outside the gate for the time being. The signature. Her eyes darted to the signature and knew who it was even before she took in the name. Her employees, the ones looking up to her, gave her curious looks, confused frowns.

"Fuck." she muttered under her breath. "Suite down, we're not going out today. Keep working on your tasks." her voice was calm, strained. Calm was the farthest thing she felt right now. He had no right- no reason- to deny her access to the world outside the gate today. True she was still tired, perhaps not as aware as one should be when going out there, but that was not his call to make.

Grace ignored various questions in favour of leaving the safety of her lab, her territory, to venture onto enemy ground. Her feet took her in the direction of the barracks first. If he wasn't in his room she'd hunt him down until she found him. She passed various door, various soldiers. Each of them moved out of her way, not once thinking to stop her to question her motives, her reason for being in the place she so very obviously despised. Finally, near the end of the hall she came to a door with the plate 'M. Quaritch' bolted to the door. She knocked twice. Waited. Knocked again.

The scientist was about to leave for the training grounds when she heard a shift from the other side of the door. Slowly the man on the other side made his way to the door and opened it enough that she could see he'd just come out of the shower. His body glistened from the heat of the shower, was tinged pink from it's slight burn. Grace blinked, momentarily taken off guard by his state of undress. Before she could stop herself, her eyes raked over his torso, took in the muscles of his midsection, the bulk of his arms as he leaned against his doorframe. "Doc." he greeted, a twist of his lips indicating he knew what she was thinking, knew what she was feeling.

Brown eyes narrowed calculatingly on his cool blue ones before she held up the form. "What the _fuck _is this?" she asked, the curse coming from her mouth almost naturally.

Without glancing at it, without moving his gaze from hers, he replied sarcastically, infuriatingly. He spoke to her as if she were a child in need of special assistance in understanding the obvious. It was maddening, it was the last straw. With a fire in her eyes, she pulled her hand back and made to connect her palm with his cheek. A second away, just a second more and it would have happened. She would have struck him and would have walked away content.

Miles, however, was a man that didn't like to be hit. He didn't like to fail and he didn't like to submit to women's silly games. He caught her wrist in a firm grip and pulled. She lurched forward and would have collided with his chest had he not stepped aside to allow her in his room. She stumbled to gain her footing and glared at him, his hand still gripping hers and back up to his eyes. "Colonel, I hardly think this is appropriate." she hissed, tugging her wrist only to find her efforts futile. He wasn't letting go. Instead, he took a step toward her with that grin of his plastered onto his mouth. She would never admit to finding a certain roguish charm to it no matter how infuriating he was.

"After your stunt just now, you're hardly one to talk about _appropriate._" another step into her and she took one back, no longer caring what it might look like. She had an issue with him and she was damn well going to let him know what it was.

"This." she held the document in front of him once more. "You had no right." she was aware of the game he was playing. She was aware that he was backing her up to the nearest wall and yet she couldn't find it within herself to care. Not when she was so angry, not when he was naked in front of her save for the towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He stopped just before they got to the wall and cocked his head to the side, her wrist still in one hand. His free hand took the paper and discarded it onto his floor.

"I did. You're still not fit to lead a team out there." his eyes pierced her, told her he knew she was trying to hide her tired state and was failing miserably.

"You have no right to make that call."

"On the contrary, I do." he brought her flush against him, revelling in her look of surprise, arousal. "I _did_." Miles' free hand slid up her arm and cupped the back of her neck. "Tell me, Augustine, what you plan on doing about it." he challenged her. Saw the rage in her gaze, the defiance that made his own blood coil at the thought of it and shuddered ever so slightly. This was a challenge not just for her, but for him also. An exciting new duel that made him use his body in sensual ways to help him strategize each move. They were no longer playing an amateur game of checkers, but now a game of chess. Each move having to be thought out, calculated. Perceived and countered. He had to make sure wherever she placed her piece, he would be one step ahead.

Grace clenched her jaw, knowing she was giving into him even before she was ready to acknowledge it. He made his move and expected her to move further away, a continuation of sorts, of their cat and mouse. There were things Grace could take, things she could endure and live through. This was not one of them. To be playfully, sexually teased to the point it made her so hot she refused to sleep, did not bode well for her. When she drifted off, it was his lips she envisioned on hers, his hands she imagined cupping her breasts, his hips she dreamt of colliding with hers over and over. Her innermost walls would clench from the dreams- the thoughts that wouldn't leave her be- and she'd awaken or snap out of it with a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Shudders of repressed sexual tension shot from her body in waves. The worst part about this was, he knew it. Miles Quaritch wasn't a stupid man. He knew what he was doing to her. He knew the affect he had on Grace and exploited it to levels she normally would have found degrading, embarrassing, if he hadn't just dropped his towel.

"Put your towel back on, Quaritch." it was meant to be menacing towards his behaviour, indifferent to the sight of him. Her eyes betrayed her desire, her tone told him the opposite of indifference. He turned them, hooked a leg around hers and brought them to the ground. Had his hand not been at her back, had she not trusted him to keep her head from smacking off the floor, she would have objected. She would have put up a fight. She couldn't place why, but for reasons unbeknownst to her, Grace trusted him. She trusted that if she were to back out at any given moment, he would stop. He most certainly wouldn't be happy to, but he would. There was just something behind the vexatious man that drew her in like a magnet. A disinterested moth to a forcefully enticing flame.

"Don't change the subject, Grace." her name rolling off his tongue sent unwanted shivers over her skin, shudders up her spine and she found herself wanting him to say it again. "What are you going to do about it?" she wasn't sure what he was referring to. Only that he'd gotten off of her to sit on his knees and held open his arms. "Give me your best shot."

Faster than she ever thought herself capable, Grace sat up, wound on arm around his neck and pulled him into her. Their faces inches apart, their eyes heavy as they stared at the other's lips. Needing, craving that final contact. He looked up at her eyes before she looked at his. He raised a brow and she frowned. "It's now or never, Colonel."

"Funny," he pinned her back to the floor, hovering a moment before he dipped his head to hers. "I was about to say the same, Doc." his lips met hers for a moment before pulling away. He dipped back down, far from done, and caught her lips in a kiss that left her gasping. A kiss so sinful she had no choice but to respond in kind. She soon felt his arousal against the side of her hip and he shifted to get more comfortable. It ultimately meant he was nestled between her thighs, rocking against her as his tongue slid along hers; matching his rhythm with his hips.

Regardless of her reserve, her determination to remain as stoic as possible, she couldn't. His ministrations, small as they were, had deliberation. He moved against her in certain ways, certain angles. He kissed her just the same and it drew forth his desired result. She relaxed completely, willingly going with the motions, willingly running her hands over the muscled planes of his back, over the bulk of his arms. Traced her fingers lightly over the scars on his head. She was something to behold, he decided as he pulled away from her mouth a moment and gauged her expression. She was completely wrapped up in what he was doing. Her cheeks tinged a light shade of pink and her breathing came in heavy pants. Her hair, red, curly and wild, strew around her head, on his floor. Grace was woman to capture and hold close. Not cage, never imprison. She wasn't the kind of woman to allow that but that didn't mean he wasn't going to mark her, stake claim on what he felt was his. This woman could and would eat a man alive, she wasn't someone to willingly submit and yet he had her on her back. He fought for her. He wrestled her tooth and nail for this dominance. Miles would be damned if he allowed her to escape his bed after this.

"Undress me." she said- commanded. It had him simultaneously smirking and raising a brow.

Miles gripped her blouse in both hands, fisted the fabric. "Not sure I like your tone, Augustine." He tore the blouse open, popping buttons, ripping the fabric. Miles wasn't sure if her gasp was of outrage or surprise. If he was being honest, he hadn't meant to completely destroy her top but he was feeling less than virtuous at the moment. Before she could utter a word, he recaptured her lips and coaxed them apart to let his tongue roam her once more. Grace's hands came to his head and held him in place, wanting him right where he was but needing him everywhere at once. Finally he moved from her thoroughly kissed lips to the underside of her jaw. He nipped lightly, sucked at her skin and trailed hot kisses down the column of her throat. He got to her pulse and stilled. Miles latched onto her skin and chose that exact spot to make his mark. He was aware it was an ass of a move, but he wanted her to bed no other. He wanted no other to make advances. It was a need within him he couldn't explain, would most likely chalk up to male pride later that night. He didn't like her, but he couldn't deny the attraction between them or the tolerance he was gaining for her. A moan escaped her lips as her skin became sensitive, the ministrations felt too good to keep quiet under. Miles moved further down and was beyond pleased to see her with merely a bra on underneath the ruined shirt.

With a look of promise, he skimmed his eyes over her covered breasts and made for her pants. He made quick work of it and with a hard tug, had her bottom half unclothed. His hungry gaze trailed over her smooth legs, the junction between her thighs and up her exposed torso. Finishing what he started, Miles divested her of her ruined top and made to tear her bra from her. "Colonel, don't you da-" just as the word left her mouth, her bra was split from her chest and dangled on a finger of his. He looked satisfied. Too satisfied. The look she was giving him must have conveyed this because as if he was taking it as a challenge, he shimmied down her form. He placed random kisses over her until he got to her core. She inhaled sharply and made to pull him back up but he pinned her hands and delved. Her sharp intake of breath and arch of her back had him smirking against her as he set to work. He brought out sensations from her with his lips and tongue alone.

She bit her bottom lip desperately to keep her sounds in. The effort was almost futile as he dragged his tongue over her and latched his lips around her most sensitive area and toyed with her. Flicks of his tongue, sucks of his lips, gentle nips with his teeth. Just as her walls pulsed, her body drew taut and her moans frequented, he pulled away from her to trail lazy patterns over her torso up to her breasts. As promised, he took them in with his gaze first, openly appreciating them. His eyes connected with hers a moment before he took one of her nipples on his mouth with a firm eagerness, a genuine desire that took over his senses and made sure he saw to her pleasure. Made sure he considered her desires before he put his first. It was an odd change to the pleasure he usually indulged in. This woman, he realized, was able to bring out a side of him not many saw and even less experienced. It was intriguing, something he was intent on further examining, exploring and testing.

"Colonel… Quaritch…" her voice trailed off, the pleasure he was bringing her almost too much for her think. She needed him inside her, craved it with an intensity that jarred her senses for minutes.

"Yes?" he asked, switching breasts, giving the other the same treatment as the first. He knew exactly what she wanted. It didn't mean he was going to make it easy for her. She fought him every step of the way and now it was his turn. Childish somewhat, he knew, however, it was a revenge he couldn't help but indulge in. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him into her. It would be so easy to slip into her folds. It would be so easy to rock into her and bring her wave after wave of pleasure, bring her to the brink until she was cursing him for his games, crying out in total ecstasy.

Grace pursed her lips and bucked against him. She arched and used her body to convey just how much she needed his touch elsewhere. She didn't want to have to verbalise her needs, in her mind it was weak and pathetic. The man above her wasn't giving her much of a choice. "Miles…" this got his attention. He faltered his ministrations of her momentarily before continuing. "God… Just _fuck me_." He chuckled around her and came up from her chest. It wasn't the breathy, feminine request he had somehow made the mistake of associating with her, but he'd take it.

Hooking one of her legs further up his waist, Miles drove into her. The look of euphoria on her face made him shudder and halt when he was buried within her to the hilt. He placed a hand on her hip, his grip tight, most likely bruising, and placed an arm by her head. Miles pulled out and she felt every inch of him stroke against her clenching walls. Their eyes, heavy with desire, connected. His languid, steady pace picked up into a fast, deep tempo. His angle shifted and with each thrust, a gasp was torn from her lips, a soft cry quickly followed. He drove her until she was clenching involuntarily, writhing beneath him without really knowing it, crying out louder and louder with each thrust until he thrust her over the edge. With a sharp cry, her muscles drew tight around him and her nails scored down his biceps before she latched onto him for purchase. She threw her head back and moaned low as he sucked at her neck, deepened the colour of the mark he left on her. With a final thrust and hard grunt into her skin, Miles unfolded within her, over her. His hips rolled into hers until his muscles quivered from the strain of keeping himself up after his exertions and he pulled out of her to collapse beside her.

They wouldn't embrace, that was too intimate. They wouldn't whisper sweet nothings into the other's ear, that was too familiar. Instead they laid side by side, their shoulder's touching, the sides of their hands just grazing. They listened to the other breathe for a while until she sat up and looked for her discarded clothes. A hard look was sent his way when she found her ruined garments on the other side of him.

"You can use the shower. I'll give you something to borrow." his gaze focused on hers, looking for something, anything that would let him know what she was thinking. A nod from her and she stood. The woman was putting up a barrier. A wall that would allow him to venture no further. Blue narrowed on her retreating form. Miles stood and followed her into the bathroom. The woman had another thing coming if she thought she to cast him aside after a good fuck. She would, undoubtedly, come back to him for more, but there was something about this one… There was something he couldn't shake. A quality he couldn't pin point within her that drew him to her whether he liked it or not. She didn't protest when he came up behind her in the shower- didn't protest when he pinned her against the wall and kissed her until they both felt dizzy from it.

And she most certainly didn't protest when he thought to claim her a few days later after witnessing one of his soldiers making an advance toward her.


End file.
